'L' is for the way you looked at me.
i need help.
serious help.
not pity.
not sympathy.
not more people telling me how much they "care" about me.
i love nothing in this world.
the leaves
those colorful autumn leaves that i used to love
...i don't see any color in them.
they're not beautiful anymore.
besides.
there are hardly any left.
all the trees are empty.
just like me.
i loved people once.
when people loved me back.
but then they stopped.
or maybe it just seems as if they stopped.
either way, i don't feel loved
so why should i assume that i am?
the pain is only going to worsen
if i continue pretending
that katie alyssa rhodes
is loved.
i live in a world of black and white.
i'm trying to grab onto something.
something that will make me love life again.
something that will serve as a reason for me to be here.
but i'm coming up horribly short.
i'm positively worthless.
i'm nothing to this world.
i make no contributions to its welfare.
i take and take from it
and i give nothing back.
i have nothing to give.
receiving no empathy > receiving false sympathy.
what's one less person to the world, anyway?
it's never cried over anyone's death.
not even over the deaths of people
who were actually important and influential.
people who mattered.
i don't matter.
the world won't even notice that i'm gone.
people say that they care about me.
they say that they love me
and that they "hate to see me like this."
well
if anybody really cared
they'd be trying to help me find a way out of this.
i'm miserable.
it's been suggested to me
that i drop out of college for the year.
that i start out all over again in the fall
with people my own age.
that i throw my one-year advantage
out the window.
for the psych ward.
i don't know what to do.
life is so confusing
that i don't even want it anymore.
this endless cycle of depression and anxiety
is never-ending.
my psychologist and my psychiatrist
told me that i'd be this way forever.
what's the point of living
if you know that the remainder of your life
is going to be a series of intervals
of mental suffering and breakdowns?
i have nothing figured out.
i have nothing to care for.
i have nothing.
nothing.
somebody's spying on me.
somebody's involving themselves
in my life.
somebody knows everything
that my physical being has been doing.
and surprisingly
i just don't care.
because they don't know
(and nobody ever will know)
what my mind does.
and that's all that really matters
to me.
my mind is the only beautiful thing
about myself
because it's so unlike everyone else's.
it's absolutely messed up.
i want to burn everything that i own
because it reminds me of who i was when i was
happy.
it makes me so jealous.
i'm jealous of who i was.
she had everything figured out.
she had everything that i don't.
she just plain had everything.
i'm nothing like her.
nobody knows who i am anymore.
not even me.
last night
i was this depressed
and i thought that it was just another down
in the up-down cycle of my bipolar spectrum.
i thought i'd wake up
and laugh at how irrational i was being.
i didn't.
i woke up
and i cried
because i woke up again.
every day
i'm forced to toss my body
into the same old useless routine
while my mind wanders around aimlessly
keeping itself completely separate
from the rest of me.
i'm often afraid that i've gone i'm going mad.
serious help.
not pity.
not sympathy.
not more people telling me how much they "care" about me.
i love nothing in this world.
the leaves
those colorful autumn leaves that i used to love
...i don't see any color in them.
they're not beautiful anymore.
besides.
there are hardly any left.
all the trees are empty.
just like me.
i loved people once.
when people loved me back.
but then they stopped.
or maybe it just seems as if they stopped.
either way, i don't feel loved
so why should i assume that i am?
the pain is only going to worsen
if i continue pretending
that katie alyssa rhodes
is loved.
i live in a world of black and white.
i'm trying to grab onto something.
something that will make me love life again.
something that will serve as a reason for me to be here.
but i'm coming up horribly short.
i'm positively worthless.
i'm nothing to this world.
i make no contributions to its welfare.
i take and take from it
and i give nothing back.
i have nothing to give.
receiving no empathy > receiving false sympathy.
what's one less person to the world, anyway?
it's never cried over anyone's death.
not even over the deaths of people
who were actually important and influential.
people who mattered.
i don't matter.
the world won't even notice that i'm gone.
people say that they care about me.
they say that they love me
and that they "hate to see me like this."
well
if anybody really cared
they'd be trying to help me find a way out of this.
i'm miserable.
it's been suggested to me
that i drop out of college for the year.
that i start out all over again in the fall
with people my own age.
that i throw my one-year advantage
out the window.
for the psych ward.
i don't know what to do.
life is so confusing
that i don't even want it anymore.
this endless cycle of depression and anxiety
is never-ending.
my psychologist and my psychiatrist
told me that i'd be this way forever.
what's the point of living
if you know that the remainder of your life
is going to be a series of intervals
of mental suffering and breakdowns?
i have nothing figured out.
i have nothing to care for.
i have nothing.
nothing.
somebody's spying on me.
somebody's involving themselves
in my life.
somebody knows everything
that my physical being has been doing.
and surprisingly
i just don't care.
because they don't know
(and nobody ever will know)
what my mind does.
and that's all that really matters
to me.
my mind is the only beautiful thing
about myself
because it's so unlike everyone else's.
it's absolutely messed up.
i want to burn everything that i own
because it reminds me of who i was when i was
happy.
it makes me so jealous.
i'm jealous of who i was.
she had everything figured out.
she had everything that i don't.
she just plain had everything.
i'm nothing like her.
nobody knows who i am anymore.
not even me.
last night
i was this depressed
and i thought that it was just another down
in the up-down cycle of my bipolar spectrum.
i thought i'd wake up
and laugh at how irrational i was being.
i didn't.
i woke up
and i cried
because i woke up again.
every day
i'm forced to toss my body
into the same old useless routine
while my mind wanders around aimlessly
keeping itself completely separate
from the rest of me.
i'm often afraid that i've gone i'm going mad.